Whitefern (Audrina 2)

“He’s coming back for that in two days. He’ll be here at the same time three times a week, remember? Is that all right?”

“Yes,” she said. “But next time, I want to make chocolate biscuits, Audrina.” She spoke firmly, as firmly as Papa when his mind was made up about something.

“Okay. Make chocolate biscuits, Sylvia. Make tons and tons of chocolate biscuits,” I nearly screamed. Anyone could have heard the tense impatience in my voice, but she simply smiled. I wondered if it was a good thing never to realize how much someone was annoyed at you. You went on your merry way, doing whatever you were doing, not feeling guilt and rarely upset with yourself.

On the other hand, I was frustrated. I went to the freezer to take out pork chops and keep myself busy.

“We’re making grilled pork chops in plum sauce tonight, Sylvia. C

oncentrate on that now.”

“Can I do the sauce?” she asked immediately.

Gradually, I had been teaching her more sophisticated recipes. She could make a nice cheese omelet or bake cookies, biscuits, and some cakes. Last Christmas, I’d taught her how to make a turkey stuffing and marshmallow sweet potatoes. The more delicate something was, the more intense was her concentration. Ironically, the easiest things bored her.

“Okay,” I said. “Get out the bag of plums.”

This was another of Arden’s favorite dinners. Why it was so important to please the men in this house I never knew, but if you disappointed Papa, you might expect the ceiling to fall and the walls to cave in. It was the same for Arden. As Aunt Ellsbeth often said, “Men are the sun, and we are the planets circling them and held in their grip.”

I took out the ingredients for the sauce—ginger, garlic, shallots, soy sauce, and honey. It was a recipe Arden’s mother, Billie, had taught me. She had tried to teach it to Vera, but Vera hated working in the kitchen. She hated all household chores. Whenever she was given something to do, she would try to get me to do it for her. Sometimes she threatened me by saying she would break something and blame it on me if I didn’t do it.

The memories streamed by like the echoes of night­mares.

Suddenly, I heard the front door open and close. I rushed out of the kitchen and was surprised to see Arden home so early. When he saw me, he raised his arm to show me he was holding a big manila envelope. He waved it like a winning lottery ticket.

“I’ve brought it all home. Mr. Johnson understands how busy you are here with Sylvia and agreed to let you sign and put your fingerprint on the page for notarization without him being present. He doesn’t do this for everyone. He’s bending the law quite a bit; it’s a special favor for us. Let’s get right to it,” he said, and sat on the settee. “I want to turn it in first thing in the morning.” He put the envelope on the table and began taking out documents and the ink pad for a fingerprint.

“I told you that I want to think about it first, Arden. Why are you rushing me?”

“Why? Why?” He slapped the table with his palm and sat back, folding his arms across his chest like a boy about to go into a sulk. “I’m chasing new, high-net-worth clients, Audrina,” he began, speaking with obviously forced self-control. “More than likely, these people will do their due diligence and investigate us inside and out before they place millions of dollars in our hands. They’ll certainly question why your father left the majority percentage of the company to you, someone who doesn’t work there and doesn’t even have a broker’s license. That’s what we call in the business a red flag. It will drive them away.”

“I’m thinking of getting my broker’s license,” I said.

“What? You’re thinking what?” His eyes widened, and he turned red with rage.

“Don’t be so shocked at the idea, Arden. I was the one who tutored you in the beginning to help you get your license.”

“That was years ago.”

“Nothing’s changed. The stock market is still the stock market.”

“Yes, a great deal has changed. There are new laws, regulations.”

“I’ll study up on it. You know I’m good at that. Aunt Ellsbeth and even your mother told me I should have gone to college. I was always on the honor roll in school.”

He stared coldly. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” He shook his head the way someone would shake water out of his ears after swimming.

“It might be very attractive for our company to have a husband-and-wife team,” I suggested. “That, it seems to me, would make new clients comfortable and be a great advertisement.”

“A great advertisement? Next, you’ll want to wear my pants.”

“Stop it, Arden. Don’t treat me like a child.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

“At least, let’s let some time pass so we can think about it.”

“I should think about this? I’ll tell you what I think about, Audrina. I think about why I’m doing all this, why we have all this, and why I work harder and harder. We have no children. We have a mentally slow young woman to care for. That’s all. And ourselves, of course, but where’s the future?”